


Constellations

by LakotaSunDancer



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakotaSunDancer/pseuds/LakotaSunDancer
Summary: “When the curse was broken, I’d expected a change in myself and my crew, but never in those I served,” he said softly, and Carina leaned forward to listen, lest she miss any piece of his story.“Once the curse was broken, any souls left behind had no need for my guidance anymore, no need to choose their fate,” he said, and then turned to face the young woman with a warmth in his eyes that she never expected.“Barbossa was the first, Carina.”In which Carina grieves her loss, and receives some unexpected information.





	Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've been toying with for the last several weeks after seeing the latest installment of Pirates of the Caribbean. Carina and Barbossa's storyline wrecked me, honestly, because my own father is currently on hospice.
> 
> We have probably a few days left to love Dad before he moves from this life into the next, and in my own grieving process, I thought it might be beneficial to do some writing again. And so this story came to be.
> 
> He won't ever be able to read it, but this story is dedicated to my dad, who loved fiercely and without measure. 
> 
> If you're the praying type, please pray for his peaceful transition, and please, enjoy the story :)

The fading firelight sent shadows dancing over the leather cover of the diary in Carina’s lap. She had been sitting up for several hours now, taking up space in the Turners’ small living room, and wishing like hell that she could just sleep. Nightmares had plagued her all night until she rose from her bed and decided to wait for the dawn. Flashes of her father’s body swallowed whole by the gaping maw of the sea tormented her even now as she sat and cradled the last piece of him she had.

The diary had saved them all. Well, almost all of them. Jack had his precious Pearl, Mr. Turner had his family, and Henry had his father. And what did she have? A few stolen moments of the man who’d given her life, and his first gift to her to thumb through when the nights were long. Everyone’s story seemed to have been completed by the breaking of the trident.

Except hers.

Mrs. Turner had welcomed her easily, overjoyed that her starry-eyed, lonely boy had brought home a lovely someone at last. And Mr. Turner, the tall, solemn figure she’d risked her life to help free, had been gracious to her as well. Their kindness touched her, and in some ways eased the sting of her loss, but she still felt like a stranger here in their home, and it made the grief all the more difficult.

Carina stroked one slender hand over the smooth leather of the diary and tried in vain to swallow her tears. How could one miss someone they barely knew? And how had she managed to make it through Henry’s reunion with his father earlier that evening without dissolving into a wailing mess? 

She recalled the fondness with which Mr. Turner had swept his boy into his arms and while she was touched to see them reunited once more, Carina had felt a deep pang of longing in her gut at the sight. It had been only hours earlier that her own father had gazed upon her with such affection, right before he had fallen to his death. It hurt, she realized, to be invited to stay with such a loving, close knit family, and though it was not meant to be ungrateful for their hospitality, it hurt all the same. 

They had something together that she knew now she would never have, and it was painful.

A sob wrenched from her throat just as a pair of heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs, and she scrambled to sit up straight and clean her face and pretend that all was right with the world. Her hands came up to smooth her hair down where the curls stood on end, and they then flew to her cheeks to pinch them pink so she wouldn’t look so drawn when Henry came down the---

Except the figure on the stairwell was most certainly not Henry, she quickly realized. 

The long hair, towering frame and broad shoulders belonged to the mysterious Mr. Turner, not his lanky son. He stood in the dark for a moment, studying her from the shadows before stepping cautiously into the room, never once letting his gaze fall from her face.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a voice gruff with sleep, but not unkindly. Carina froze, feeling suddenly very small and self conscious.

“Yes, sir,” she managed meekly, “I was unable to sleep, so I thought I would sit and read a while.” Then, when he simply stood and stared at her, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he replied, running a hand tiredly through his hair. He stared at her a moment longer then, his face falling in concern. “Are you all right?” he asked again, and Carina was suddenly very aware of just how swollen and sore her eyes were. She avoided his gaze, feeling overwhelmed and embarrassed at having clearly been found out, and tried in vain to keep the tears at bay. Several escaped and rolled onto her cheeks, and Mr. Turner took a step backward and turned abruptly to face the stairwell.

“I will fetch Henry,” he said in what sounded strangely like sympathy. “He would be more help than I.” Mr. Turner was about to charge up the staircase again when Carina vehemently shook her head in reply.

“No no,” she managed, barely, “Don’t bother. I’ll just need a moment.” In fact, she needed several moments to stare into the smoldering remnants in the fireplace before she could face Mr. Turner with a proudly lifted chin and the ghost of a smile on her lips. He regarded her solemnly from his place in the doorway for what felt like a long while.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Carina,” he said finally, his eyes boring into hers with a genuine sadness and concern. Damn him, she thought, turning abruptly so that he might miss the sudden flood in her eyes and the way her chin quivered. She could hear his heavy footfalls as he stepped fully into the room behind her, and decided that she wasn’t about to turn back until she could compose herself once more. 

“I hope you don’t mind me mentioning it,” he went on softly, voice tinged with some regret. “Henry told me everything after supper tonight. Truly, I am so very sorry.” 

Carina sniffled into the back of her hand, feeling utterly foolish, and shook her head in reply. Mr. Turner sighed sadly behind her, but made no move to return upstairs.

“I a-appreciate your sympathy, Mr. Turner,” she managed. “I just wish he didn’t have to go.” The heavy footfalls then made their way to the low windowsill that faced out toward the dark night and the black sea below. Mr. Turner was silent then, and, admittedly curious, Carina turned to see him sitting, one foot propped on the frame, in the wide bay window. He looked decidedly ghoulish with the white moonlight illuminating the wild tangle of curls on his head and his weathered, wiry frame. 

“If I may, Carina, I would like to share something with you.” His dark eyes stared out and up into the stars, fixated on something Carina could not see. At first, she hesitated. With that faraway look in his eyes, what on earth was he about to tell her? But the ever-curious piece of her that always seemed to win out in the end urged her to sit and hear what the mysterious Mr. Turner had to say. And she obeyed.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, folding her hands tightly in her lap. Mr. Turner was still for a moment before slowly trailing his gaze away from whatever had him so mesmerized to stare at her intently.

“How much do you know about the nature of my work?” The question caught Carina by surprise. 

“Well, Henry has told me quite a bit about your….job,” she sputtered a bit foolishly, “And of the curse you endured for so long.” His eyes flashed at the mention of the curse, and for a horrifying moment, Carina thought she had said exactly the wrong thing. But he nodded his understanding, and pressed on.

“He has mentioned the specifics of what I had to do, yes?” he urged her, “That I was tasked with ferrying souls to the afterlife?” Carina froze then, hope welling up in her chest so high that she thought she might burst. Henry had told her all about his father and everything he had been forced to endure, but why was this what the eldest Turner wanted to share with her? 

Unless…

“You ferried him then? You ferried my father?” came the hopeful guess bubbling up before she had a chance to think. Her palms grew clammy and her heart pounded in her ears as she waited eagerly for his answer. Any news of him, anything at all to set her soul at peace for a night…

“No, Carina.”

And she felt the hope fade abruptly, snuffed out like a candle in the dark. Her ribs ached with a hollow sadness, wanting for something to fill the empty space again, but his two words, though spoken gently, stole it all away. Mr. Turner turned his eyes once again to the sky, and smiled softly to himself.

“I did not ferry your father because there was no need,” he explained, turning back over his shoulder for a brief moment to smile kindly at her. “You see, the curse applied not only to me, but to the souls I tended to as well.”

“Each one that passed through my care had one of two choices during that time,” he went on, “Serve, or sail to The Locker.” Carina nodded, mesmerized. “Now, when I was much younger, an ignorant someone described The Locker to me as a ‘crushing, black oblivion’, and truthfully, it was never that from what I understood.” He leaned back heavily against the window frame, stretching one leg along the length of the windowsill, and continued to spin his tale.

“Sand as far as you can see, and the sun high in the sky all day long,” he explained, holding up one large hand in the moonlight to demonstrate the position of the sun, “Which, all things considered, did not fit the horrific tale I’d been told, but it was never an ideal resting place for a soul after death.” He sighed then, shaking his head, and returned his gaze to the stars.

“When the curse was broken, I’d expected a change in myself and my crew, but never in those I served,” he said softly, and Carina leaned forward to listen, lest she miss any piece of his story.

“Once the curse was broken, any souls left behind had no need for my guidance anymore, no need to choose their fate,” he said, and then turned to face the young woman with a warmth in his eyes that she never expected. “Barbossa was the first, Carina.” He paused then, allowing her a moment to breathe. And instead, Carina stared at him skeptically, one eyebrow raised in consternation.

“So his soul was left to wander?” Mr. Turner frowned at the obvious hurt in her voice. “What happened to him then? Please, tell m--”

“Hush,” came the soft command, accompanied by the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder, which she noted was trembling under the force of her emotion. Mr. Turner came then to sit at the space on the sofa to her left.

“I know your grief must be great,” he began kindly, his dark eyes narrowing in sympathy. “I spent a lifetime grieving too for a father I scarcely knew. You must feel very lost and alone.” Carina nodded in reply, not at all trusting her voice to not shudder and tremble if she spoke. Mr. Turner lowered his stare to his folded hands and allowed the young woman a good while spent in silence. Carina was more grateful than he would ever know. 

“Wh-What happened to him then?” she finally gasped, swiping at her eyes. “Please. I need to know.” She fixed her gaze on his bowed head then and willed him to look her in the eye. After a beat, he did, and then, rising from his seat, offered her his hand.

“Come, there is something you should see.” His eyes were firm and unreadable in the shadows of his face. His hand lingered, but Carina dared not take it. What on earth was this man on about?

“...Sir?”

A slight huff of annoyance was her answer, but his face softened then and he offered her an affectionate smile.

“Trust me. This is something you need to see,” Mr. Turner said again.

Ever skeptical, Carina took his offered hand and allowed Henry’s father to lead her through the cottage, out the door, and onto the grassy bluff that overlooked a churning black sea. The moon was full, she noted, and its light shone brilliantly over them on the bluff. She risked a curious glance at Mr. Turner, who was once again transfixed upon the clear night sky. His face was haggard, exhausted, the face of a man who had suffered much, and yet, he was all too willing to meet her in her own suffering. His hand fell away from hers, and Mr. Turner then walked alone to nearly the edge of the bluff, eyes watching the sky all the while.

“Most souls, when they choose the afterlife over service, make their way to the other side in small boats,” Mr. Turner suddenly said into the humid night air, never once breaking his gaze. “When I saw your father, he too was in a boat of his own, sailing across as any soul would do.” It was quiet for a long moment, and the wind was the only sound in Carina’s ears. 

“But the curse had been broken. He was among others who had died, but they drifted as if dead beneath the waves,” Mr. Turner continued, “Barbossa was the first I had seen to move from death, not into The Locker as expected, but into the fullness of the afterlife.” Carina felt her heart catch in her throat, and then, with some hesitation, followed Mr. Turner’s gaze toward the heavens.

“He sailed to the end of the world beyond, and then, as his boat tipped over the edge, I looked, and his body was gone.” Mr. Turner then chuckled lightly, shaking his head as if he still could not believe it. 

“A silver albatross rose from where your father had been, and flew into the night until all I could see then was a pinprick of light.” He beckoned Carina then to his side, and grinning down at her with a fondness and joy she had not expected, pointed above his head to the East. Carina squinted, searching the map she had memorized so precisely for any sign of the unusual. There was Aquila and Sagittarius, and even the faint bluish glow of a faraway planet, and to her eyes, nothing seemed amiss. Cassiopeia to the North was unchanged, and the same went for Virgo in the West. 

She was about to turn to Mr. Turner in exasperation and demand he give her a clue, but then, just between Pegasus and Cygnus, a tiny pinprick of light that she had never seen glimmered brightly. 

And Carina smiled.

“Henry tells me you were named for the stars,” Mr. Turner said thoughtfully. The reminder made Carina’s breath hitch in her chest, but she nodded in reply.

“Yes. By him.” She allowed several tears to escape unchecked then. Somehow, she knew Mr. Turner would not mind. And indeed, he did not. 

“Very fitting, then,” he mused, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with his grin, “to rest in the Heavens, where you can see him anytime you wish.” He turned slowly to her then, one eyebrow raised mischievously. “Or, to be sure you keep yourself out of trouble.” 

Through her tears, Carina managed a wry chuckle and rolled her eyes. They stood together on the bluff for a time, Mr. Turner’s hand heavy on her shoulder as Carina worked to compose herself. But doing so was difficult. Everything she had been searching for was now miles upon miles away, above her head and to the East. Still, she had to admit that hearing Mr. Turner’s account of her father’s passing into the next life had eased an ache in her soul she did not know she’d had. Knowing he was there, safe in the stars, was good enough to help her sleep, if only for tonight. She swiped her thumb under her eyes to clear the last of the tears away, and faced Mr. Turner.

“Thank you,” she murmured, eyes shining with gratitude. “This is such a gift.” He nodded with a sad smile, and then left her side with a squeeze of his hand on her shoulder. Carina was about to follow him back to the cottage, wondering if he was annoyed at being kept from bed for so long, but Mr. Turner gazed back over his shoulder and put her fears to rest.

“Take as much time as you need. We shall see you in the morning.” A moment later, and his tall form disappeared into the cottage, leaving Carina alone in the moonlight. Except, she was not truly alone. She tilted her head back to smile up into the heavens, and there, to the East, nestled safely in a swirl of purple and black and God knows what else, a tiny star twinkled its silent reply.


End file.
